"Reverted;" the mechanic said. "Her soul's gone."

He crossed himself.

"Where's it gone?" Hank said.

"Only God knows."

"No," Hank muttered. "I'll bet Glinda knows, too."

He had a theory. If it was right, that first lightning ball, or whatever it was, had left the plane to shoot after Ot with the intention of dispossessing the sentient entity in her and occupying her itself. Though it had ousted the original possessor, it had failed to take occupancy. Meanwhile, a second ball had formed. Or, if it already existed, it had been invisible until it used the electrical energy in the atmosphere to form the sphere.

Or had he put all his available data into the wrong theory? Was he wrong because he did not have all the data he needed?

He felt very frustrated. He also felt sorry for the hawk.

"Is she going to be kept in the cage until she dies?" he said.

"I don't know. That's up to Little Mother. The hawk can't be let loose. She'd murder more chickens. Even if she were released in the woods, she'd probably prey on the domestic fowl. Also, since she's nonsentient, she'd be handicapped, she couldn't compete with the other hawks. She'd probably starve to death."

Glinda's hawks got their meat by going to the woods where the wild creatures were, and there they caught mice, rabbits, and other small animals. But, since these were sentient, they were not as easy prey as they would have been on Earth. The hawks never seized enough to satisfy their bellies. They depended largely on the indigenous meat nuts, shelled fruit containing a very high percentage of protein. These filled their guts—they were not stinted on these—but they did not satisfy the hawks' craving for real meat. Hence, they were given leave at regular intervals to go hunting in the woods. The mice, rabbits, gophers, wild ducks, and pheasants did not like that, but their treaty with humans did not include protection from domestic birds of prey.

"Has this happened to other hawks?" Hank said.

"Not very often, but it does happen."

"What was done to them?"

"They were left in the cages for a year. If they were not repossessed by then, they were executed. It'd be cruel to free them. They'd just die of hunger."

"Since this can happen to hawks," Hank said, "it must also happen now and then to other animals. And, I assume, to humans. Isn't that right?"

The mechanic crossed himself and said, "I have heard that it does. However, except for some stories which I do not believe because Little Mother says they're not true, the only ones who've ever been possessed are idiots."

Those who belonged to the main church made the sign of the cross and invoked Marzha, Hailag Aithii of Kristuz-Thun (Mary, Holy Mother of Christ-Thor). Sometimes she was called other names, though Nantho was the favorite. Nantho, if Hank remembered correctly, was the name of an ancient Gothic goddess. There was also confusion about Christ, because sometimes he was called Thun and sometimes Ogiiz. Hank did not know the origin of the latter name.

They had a form of the Mass, called the Kollekta in some regions and the Bread-breaking in others. It was conducted in a barbarous Latin, the translation of which had been lost.

The Goths must have entered this world with all or part of copies of the New Testament translated into Gothic. But the text had become corrupted and expanded since then, and the religion had also been changed and accreted. The Terrestrial and Orthodox churches would regard this branch of the church as heretical. But then the Amariikians would consider those two to be in grave error.

At noon, Hank was summoned to the conference room. Glinda, the two kings, and the human and animal counsellors were there.

"How soon can you leave?" the queen said.

"In half an hour. The spare wheels are ready, but if the battery goes dead, I'm out of luck."

"So be it. You should be able to get to the third refueling station before nightfall. You'll go to Oz first. After you drop Niklaz off, return to the Oz capital and help out the troops for five days. Do—what do you call it?—strafing. Anything you can do with your airplane. Then, regardless of the situation there, come back here. The next message from your people will be coming through shortly after your return."

"If I return," Hank said. "You surely realize, Glinda, that I might be attacked by Erakna's birds again. Or I could have an accident. Or..."

"Yes, I know," Glinda said. "There's also another danger. I've just learned that Erakna has stolen the Golden Cap of the Winged Monkeys. Do you know what that means?" Hank nodded.

The West Witch had had the Cap when Dorothy had been a prisoner in the Witch's castle. After Dorothy had thrown water on the Witch and the Witch had become, as it were, puddled, Dorothy had taken the Cap. After Dorothy had used the three wishes—"wishes"?—which the Cap's owner could use to control the Winged Monkeys, Glinda had given the Cap to the Monkeys' king. From then on, it was assumed, the Monkeys would be free. They would not be snatched away from whatever they were doing and be forced to do whatever a non-Monkey Cap owner wished, things which were often inconvenient and sometimes extremely dangerous for the Monkeys. Now they were in servitude again.

Hank thought, How does the Cap work? How could it make slaves out of the Monkeys? Why just three wishes?

"I don't know if the Uneatable would use them against you as yet," Glinda said. "However, I'm sure that she considers you a major threat to her. Otherwise, she'd not have sent those hawks after you. She might send the Monkeys to kill you and destroy the plane. Or she might just use the hawks again. Now that you have those machine guns, do you think you'd have a good chance to defend yourself against those flying simians?"

Hank shrugged, and he said, "It depends upon the situation. Jenny isn't a fast and highly maneuverable military plane. I really can't say." He paused.

"Maybe I should ask her. After all, she's in just as much danger. She might not want to volunteer for hazardous duty." Glinda smiled, and he knew that she knew. "Chenny isn't a free-will agent yet. She'll depend upon you. In fact, she's your subject and you're her king. For a while, anyway. She's like a baby duck; she attached herself to the first living thing she saw when she, ah, came out of wherever she'd been before."

"In that case," Hank said, "why didn't the Scarecrow attach itself to the farmer who made it? The farmer would've been the first living being it saw."

"You're a thinker," Glinda said, smiling. "Ask the Scarecrow."

Hank looked at the thing.

"I was very much attached to the farmer," it said. "I longed to get down off the pole and go with him. But he deserted me, and for a long time I had only crows for company. Then your mother came along and got me free, and I, uh, transferred, you might say, my dependence and my great affection to her. Still, I write—dictate, rather—a letter to the farmer once a year. And I take a great interest in his happiness."

"That's enough of questions," Glinda said. "Leave now."

"Pardon me," Hank said. "This concerns the trip. Will a hawk guide me? As you know, Ot is... out of it."

"You shouldn't need a guide," the queen said. "You've been over the route. But, yes, I've arranged for three hawks to go with you. One will stay with you as your guide."

Hank thanked her, bowed, and went to his suite to pack. Lamblo entered just as he had finished. She wrapped his waist with her arms and pressed one side of her face against his stomach.

"Oh, Hank, I have a terrible feeling about this trip. A premonition of death. I won't ever see you again!"

Tears wet his shirt. He lifted her up and kissed her.

"Don't worry. Premonitions mean nothing. I'll be fine."

He sat down on the bed and put her on his lap.